


His brother

by ThechevyTardisof221B



Series: Reasons Sherlock Loses [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, Mycroft Holmes Needs a Hug, Nonbinary Mycroft, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sick Mycroft, Worried Greg Lestrade, Worried John Watson, Worried Sherlock, mainly focused on sherlock being emotional and worries about mycroft, maybe will make into a series if someone asks idk yet, mycroft in the hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThechevyTardisof221B/pseuds/ThechevyTardisof221B
Summary: When Mycroft gets sick again and ends up in the Hospital Sherlock panics. Emotions are a defect found in the losing side and Lord knows, Sherlock never wins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm purposely being extremely vague as to what Mycroft suffers from in this chapter, I will elaborate later. Sherlock is emotional in this sorry if you find that out of character but if you don't like don't read. This is my first work so please leave comments so I can get inspired for another one or improve :) Enjoy!

The room was spinning. His chest was tight. The phone shook in his hand. These facts barely registered. 

The mug Sherlock was holding shattered at his feet. Upon hearing the noise, John leapt to his feet, knowing full well that crashing glass and Sherlock usually meant an explosion to follow. He was shocked to find, instead of some chemical experiment gone wrong, a pale, trembling Sherlock clutching his phone, the shattered mug, and spilt coffee at his feet. 

“Sherlock, wha- what happened?” John questioned shock and concern written all over his face 

Carefully trying to avoid the shards he went over and placed a soothing hand on Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock's knees buckled, finally voicing a terrified, hoarse “No,” John led him away from the mess as he shook.

“Sherlock, tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help.” He commanded gently

Sherlock snapped out of it immediately, straightened up, doing his best to conceal his shaking. He quickly focused his thoughts; Mycroft and Lestrade needed his help, after all. When he spoke, he avoided John’s eyes and spoke in that detached manner he used whenever he got emotional, the difference unnoticeable to anyone outside his very small circle of family. 

“It would appear Mycroft is having a bit of a spell, Lestrade just texted to say they are in the hospital, coming?” 

“Sherlock, when you say spell-” 

“I mean at the moment I have no considerable clue as to what's happening but I can deduce it would be related to their latest treatments.” 

“Right, and knowing you, you've jumped to all the worst conclusions because in the case of Mycroft you jump to the worst of them.” John was already pulling on his boots while Sherlock promptly ignored his statement. 

“Come along John; I’ll tell Mrs Hudson about the mug and we can grab a cabbie.” 

“You know Sherlock, she’s-” John began a smile heard plainly in his voice 

“-not your housekeeper,” Mrs Hudson finished with him from the doorway, “I heard the crash and came up.”

“Mrs.-” 

“And I heard the explanation,” she soothed, cutting off Sherlock. “Go on now. Send Mycroft my best and tell me about it tonight, alright?”

“Bless,” Sherlock said swiftly, already turning up his coat collar. He gave her a grateful look as he swept out the door. John nodded in her direction gratefully, following Sherlock out the door. 

The cab ride was only fifteen minutes to the hospital, but the time seemed to drag on. John was all too aware of his partner’s every periodic twitch and his constant glances at his mobile as he sat next to him. John kept his voice low and soothing as one might use with a frightened child. “Sherlock, it's going to be alright. Mycroft’s strong if a bit stubborn, probably just overworked themself a bit, yeah?” 

The reply was instant and sharp “I know what you’re doing. Don't.” His tone left no room for argument and John knew that Sherlock wouldn't allow himself to be talked down from his panic until they were far away from anyone other than family. He looked at him and gave a short nod, laying a hand on his knee in silent support, and didn't miss the grateful glance he gave nor the way he leaned on him a bit for the rest of the ride. 

They finally reached the hospital, and after rapidly checking in, they ran up the stairs and into the room where a pacing Lestrade had his trembling gaze on the face of his partner.

“Sherlock, John.” The relief was evident in the man's voice. Sherlock nodded briefly on his way to Mycroft's bedside, John gave Greg an apologetic look and took his arm guiding him away from the bed to talk. 

All Sherlock could think about was how it was just so  _ wrong _ to see them like this, so pale and still against the sheets of the hospital bed. Reminding him all too much of some of the corpses he and Molly worked with. Despite his uptight nature, Mycroft was always so expressive, having a smile, sneer, or glare for everything. But like this, they just looked blank. 

“Sherlock,” John called. “I’m going to take Lestrade downstairs to grab a cuppa, yeah?” Sherlock gave a minute nod and knowing that's all they would get, they headed out the door and down the hall.

If anyone had walked in within that 15 minutes he was alone with Mycroft, they would have seen one of three stages:

The first was minutes 1 through 6, with a red-eyed Sherlock with tear tracks down his cheeks. Holding an all to limp hand and quietly pleading with his older sibling to just be okay. 

The second was minutes 7 through 10: him telling Mycroft how much he loved them and how sorry he was for being a git and how sorry he was for being an emotionally stunted arse who couldn't admit it except in a breathless rush, unsure if they could even hear him. 

Minutes 10 through 15 was a very frantic Sherlock trying to ensure he did NOT look like he had been crying (a difficult task when one refuses to let go of the hand he is clutching) 

When John and Lestrade came in you could almost see him as one usually did, with a detached sort of air, if not for the red in his eyes, the subtle shake in his casually outstretched leg and breath, and the way he clutched his sibling’s hand. 

The two men exchanged a knowing look, Sherlock was a wreck, and he refused to show it. Surely he would break down later, but they would be ready for him when he did, because although he often says ‘emotions are a defect found in the losing side’ he never claims to win.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey y’all, this really wasn’t going as well as I hoped, I was so worried about updating regularly and in a timely manner that I wasn’t happy or confident in what I posted, so I’m leaving the first chapter as a one shot as I originally intended, however I promise I will be making a sequel/spin off work soon, I just didn’t like what I was putting out. So sorry for everyone who was enjoying/following the fic, I promise I’m not abandoning this idea it’s just going to be posted all at once at a later date in a separate work. Lots of love please feel free to comment advice or yell at me :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! Lots of thanks to my good friend, and beta ArtistActressAthena, she made this all possible and shes a great author so check her out! Comments help me improve and make me happy so please please please comment your thoughts!


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